


Courtesy Flag

by agileassassin



Category: Jelle's Marble Runs (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Insults, Mild Language, Minor Violence, Nonbinary Character, One Shot, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:40:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29770113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agileassassin/pseuds/agileassassin
Summary: Three blue flags in a row lead to a drive through penalty. Red Eye thinks that penalty should occur after two.
Kudos: 3





	Courtesy Flag

Red Eye took off their helmet and held it triumphantly in the air, hearing cheers and screams rise from the stands as he rose along the conveyor belt back to the top of the track. Razzy turned back and scowled before taking a few starter steps and sprinting off the belt to their last lap.

If all eyes and cameras weren't on them, Red Eye would've tackled them to the ground. Bruises would be forming on their arms by now, even through thick racing padding, their body remembering that this was far from the worst the Racer's captain could do. Their entire team was built for contact sports, and damn if Red Eye wouldn't be doing their worst the next time they went face to face in a hockey match.

They'd make sure the Cat's Eyes would be guaranteed a match against the Racers in collision next year. They'd see about bringing back the spinners, or some other obstacle that would make the safety board cringe in hindsight.

Heavy breathing came from Speedy behind them, their own helmet being lifted and spun in celebration of yet another medal for the Speeders. The two captains locked eyes; they could tell Speedy was just as pissed at Razzy's antics as they were. But they shook their head slightly, the crowd probably didn't even notice the warning Speedy gave.

Whatever. Red Eye couldn't care less about Speedy and what they thought about the bullshit Razzy had just pulled. It's not like Speedy--or any of the Savage Speeders, for that matter--would know what it was like being an underdog. To work their way up from the bottom, no sponsorships or fanmail, barely a footnote in the weekly sports recap even when they won.

And now, even after yet another victory, the buzz around the Cat's Eyes would be stolen by the Racers. Everything they and Yellow Eye had worked so hard for would be taken by some bitter idiot that couldn't even avoid getting stuck on a paved track.

"It's not worth it, Red." White Eye's voice sounded distant though it was streamed right through their earpiece. The conveyor belt came to a smooth stop and Red Eye leapt easily over the safety barrier to the access ramp down to the main course, to the interviewers, to the locker room. They pushed away a medic who snapped something about a once over due to the collisions.

They'd show them collisions.

Red Eye reached the tunnel to the locker rooms and stood to wait for Razzy to finish, giving a quick glance to the monitors displaying the finishing order, watching Razzy's place pick up to 15th. Maybe Limelime would join Red Eye in beating down Razzy. White Eye joined them, handing a them a sports drink and towel. The Thunderbolt's captain followed not far behind, looking as stoic as ever.

The other marbles passed by in a multicolored stream, stretching muscles and chatting between exhausted breathing; half-hearted taunts between the ones who'd finished in the upper half, sniffles and groans of what coaches would be doing to the others. "I'm serious," White Eye said. Red Eye reached up and yanked out their earpiece when an echo came through from their coach. "You've got nothing to prove. Get in a fight with Razzy, you're benched for the rest of Marbula."

"Like you'd actually bench me," Red Eye spat back, tapping the new patch on their sleeve from yet another sponsor. Dozens of companies and rich marbles from all around Marblearth had contacted them over the midseason break. White Eye couldn't afford to bench them.

And standing on the podium, up at the peak with all eyes on them, Red Eye raised the trophy and popped the champagne (from somewhere near Accellaise, Red Eye noticed; the League had expected the Speeders to do much better than they had been), wondering when the sour taste of moist earth would leave their mouth.

And it was all the news crews wanted to talk about, how Razzy had gotten not one but two blue flags, how did they feel about it? How were they able to keep their cool? Why did they think Razzy fought so hard to avoid being lapped? They'd never seemed to fight so hard even when they were losing not long ago in the Snowboard Cross--

Why didn't the news marbles want to talk about how they were well on their way to enter the top three individual scores of Marbula One with less than half of the appearances as any other marble. No one wanted to ask how it felt to win three medals in four races, two golds nearly back to back. How it felt to claw out a victory against the most successful marble in the entire world, to fight against an opponent that wanted to take them down with them. No, everyone wanted to get their opinions on Razzy rather than how they were able to overcome Razzy.

Red Eye could hear the questions Speedy was getting; nothing like this. How did it feel to add another medal to their record? Red Eye ended the interviews early. Speedy had been just as affected by Razzy, if not more. But since they already had a reputation, they had nothing to prove. It wasn't a fluke that Speedy had come in second--it was a fluke that Red Eye had gotten a second gold medal.

White Eye stayed behind to save face when Red Eye all but stormed away from the reporters. That would get them talking, nothing got teams trending like drama. Give the fans a new rivalry to sink their teeth into.

Back through the understadium tunnels to the locker room, sparce with only some blue marble off in the corner. Red Eye didn't care to check the striping on the racer's uniform to see if it was a Kolbalt or Oceanic. They could've been a Turtle Slider for all Red Eye cared, and apparently for all the press cared to interview them.

Red Eye stalked to their cubby and tore down the placard with the team's logo on it, the cat's eye staring just a little too intensely down at them. The velcro pulled off with a satisfying, crunchy rip, the plastic placard catching on the wooden cubby with a nasty dent when Red Eye threw it with all their exhausted might.

Others started to funnel in, from the middle of the pack, no doubt. More marbles the reporters didn't care to interview for more than a question or two, probably from their own countries. No hard hitters in the League who could still be asked about their Winter League performances. Red Eye scowled again; they never wanted to be part of that mediocre group again.

The air, the conversation between competitors was lightheartedly tense as they came through to grab their bags and change out of sweaty uniforms. Not many were at serious risk of being dropped by sponsors, being retired. The atmosphere fell soon after they entered the locker room; Red Eye hoped it was because of them. They felt like the anger was practically rolling off of them.

Red Eye unzipped their uniform halfway, then pulled the zipper back up. They'd need all the protection they could get against the much buffer Razzy; soreness was creeping into their arms, exhaustion from doing a full fifteen laps would catch up soon. Instead, they sat down on the ledge of their cubby, instantly meeting the eyes of any marble that dared to look in their direction. They could swear every marble was whispering about them, was deliberately changing slowly, taking extra time to stretch they never had before.

They heard Razzy before they saw them. Chatting about something stupid with whoever was running for the O'Rangers today, the orange marble as carefree as always and not even noticing how Red Eye had stood to stomp over, fuming.

Razzy laughed with an arrogant smirk to the O'Ranger's easy smile. Red Eye interrupted it as they took Razzy by the collar, half undone against the heat of the jungle and slammed them against the wall. "Oh, hey, Red Eye," Razzy said, glancing down slightly to stare into Red Eye's eyes and shifting their weight onto their toes, "Thanks for not getting into my way too much today."

"What the hell is your problem?" Red Eye snapped, pressing Razzy harder into the wall.

"Aw, if you wanted an autograph all you needed to do is ask," Razzy replied.

"Woah, woah, let's, like, calm down, Red Eye," the O'Ranger said. Red Eye batted away a gentle hand on their arm, noting how the other athletes bristled to watch the scene unfold.

"Can't lose with dignity?"

"Are you so used to losing with dignity you never learned how to win without being a prick about it?" Razzy spat, arrogance in their tone giving way to a stiff anger. "Check the damn points. What the hell are you trying to prove?"

Red Eye didn't care to have an answer. They threw Razzy to the ground, enjoying the thud of glass on the floor. "Get in my way again and I'll shatter you," they said. More hands grabbed Red Eye from behind, restraining them as they tried to tackle Razzy.

"Watch it, model marble, you're hosting next League. We've only got to be worried about you for five more weeks." Too many marbles helped Razzy stand.

Red Eye relaxed their shoulders and pulled from everyone's grip. They grabbed their bag from their cubby and turned back. Most of the other marbles stood between them and Razzy. "Then I hope you enjoy the most terrifying five weeks of your life." They met eyes with each marble, letting their namesake red eyes flash in the too-bright fluorescents of the locker room. "All of you."


End file.
